


Pain, Treasure and Fatherhood

by Ocimi



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Arthur Morgan, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23387329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ocimi/pseuds/Ocimi
Summary: Follow up of You Don't Raise Hero's You Raise Sons
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Dutch van der Linde, Hosea Matthews & Arthur Morgan
Kudos: 47
Collections: You Don't Raise Hero's You Raise Sons





	1. Chapter 1

Arthur Morgan was a recovering man, hand still achy and scars still stinging. But the worst injuries of all were not physical, no, they were his feeling of abandonment, self hate and his way of throwing himself into whatever danger called his name. He worried people around him, but no one dared say anything... well, everyone except Hosea.

"Dear boy, you can't be doing this. Every time you leave camp I fear you won't return again." He chided, watching as Arthur nursed a bruised jaw. Arthur grumbled an acknowledgement as he walked past Hosea to his tent. Hosea was about to follow him before he saw Dutch bee-lining to them.

"Arthur! What happened?" His voice was loud and booming, demanding an answer. Arthur flinched. Guilt briefly flashed across his face as he examined Arthur's darkening black eye and sore jaw. No words escaped Arthur's jaw as he worked it and rubbed the sore area. He averted his eyes and slunk past, causing Dutch to look to Hosea who looked equally as lost as he did.

\--

Arthur knew that he was worrying his found family but the nightmares kept him awake, churning an anxious energy that seemed to only dull when his fist met skin. Perhaps it was aggression based from hanging upside down at the mercy of O'Driscolls, or from feeling suffocated by the well meaning two at camp. He was determined to show he wasn't weak, couldn't afford to after... well Micah. Between his being out of commission to heal and losing Micah he knew the pressure to earn was building. That is how he found himself riding hard away from the law after robbing a stage. He earned a solid 250 dollars though.

He hissed as a bullet buzzed near his head and leaned lower. Soleil panted under him but she was strong. They streaked across the ground near Riggs Station before ducking into the woods. He jumped off Soleil and smacked her rear, causing her to run off, before ducking behind a rock and holding his breath. His hand came to his grazed arm, blood gently pulsed out of his wound and it burned something awful but he was able to ignore it for the most part. He heard the law skirt around the trees and shout as they saw Soleil running. Luckily they didn't realize she was riderless yet. Arthur peeked over the rock and determined that the law has followed her and he snuck out of the forest and onto the road before jogging down the road towards to the train bridge. It was risky he knew, but it was the safest way across the river without alerting the tense law that would no doubt by now realized he wasn't on his loyal horse. He stepped carefully onto the track, looking both ways before crouching and walking across the first part. Once he was halfway he felt the tell tale rumble of a train and sighed standing up. He started to run towards to the end of the bridge, whistling loudly for Soleil, who hopefully was wandering nearby. The train horn blasted and Arthur ran faster, his breathe puffing out of his lungs. He made it just in time and watched the train rumble past while gasping for breath.

"Hands up, cowboy." A voice said and Arthur heard a click of a gun behind him. He sighed, still out of breath and raised his hands before turning around. A lawman, alone, stood gun pointed at his head.

"Alright, I surrender." Arthur said, eyeing the shaky disposition of the man. Arthur's hand twitched, wishing to grab his pistol and unload. However, he knew there were more law around. He felt hands jerk his behind his back before he was shoved to the ground. Arthur huffed as a rock dug into his ribs. He let them tie him up, and let them load him onto the horse. He whistled, a low short burst of sound, before a hand smacked across his head.

"Silence!" Arthur made no noise, the whistle was a signal for Soleil, should she be around, to flee. Arthur watched the ground as they rode to strawberry. He was shoved into a cell, and locked up. Arthur sighed, knowing he wouldn't hear the end of this from Dutch or Hosea. 

-

"Hello Gentlemen!" Hosea greeted, two fine bottles of brandy in his hands. He eyed the lawman sitting around the jail house with trained eyes. He saw they were rather new, must be because of the massacre Micah had dragged Arthur in. The men stared at him, hands moving to guns. He lifted the bottles towards them.

"I mean no harm! I'm simply a man looking for work. You see, I coordinate some bounty hunters from out of state, and we need some work! I brought a peace offering." Hosea said, filling three cups, handing once to each man.

"Hm, well, right now we are fresh out of bounties now that we have the notorious Morgan downstairs. He raised quite a bit of hell in this town and the mayor wants to see him hang." The one wearing the sheriff badge said snarkily. 

"Gave us a lot of trouble he did, robbed a stage and took out a few of our good men. Bastard." Deputy grumped. "We didn't want to be law men, bastard and his associate made us take that position."

"Perhaps we can help with the hanging part? Protection?" Hosea said, topping off their glasses. This time he slipped a bit of herb in the bottle before pouring. He nursed his first, untainted cup. 

"Well, perhaps. I hear Morgan has a gang. If they get word of his hanging they might come..." The sheriff looked over Hosea, eyes turning dark. What was this stuff? Strong as hell.

"This.. This is some brandy, sir." The deputy slurred, downing the rest of the cup. 

"Yes... it is." Hosea said, watching them both pass out on the floor. He rolled his eyes as he grabbed the cell key and wandered downstairs to unlock Arthur. Arthur was standing at the door looking less then impressed.

"Hello, Hosea." He greeted, a tight smile on his lips.

"Arthur. Come on, we hafta get outta here." Hosea led Arthur up the stairs, idly noting the obvious blood on his arm. They rode hard out of strawberry and back to Clements point. 

\--

"What is your problem!?" Dutch boomed, cornering Arthur while Hosea tended to his (luckily) light arm wound. Arthur flinched but met eyes with Dutch.

"We need money." Arthur huffed, shoving the 250 at Dutch, who stared at him angrily and refused to take it. His dark eyes were near black with rage. Hosea put a gentle hand on Dutch's arm.

"We're worried for you, you keep coming back with cuts and bruises and you don't tell us whats going on. We want to help but you have to open up to us." His voice calmed Dutch some but a hot rage still boiled under the surface. Couldn't Arthur see how much he meant to them? 

"It's nothing." Arthur looked away, hat covering his eyes once again. After the boat ride things had become tense between them. Arthur was too stubborn to ask for help, already feeling weak and hating it. Idly he scratched his cheek, a healing scab, and stared hard at the ground. 

Dutch stormed away, a fiery expression on his face telling all other camp goes to steer clear. Even Molly has the sense to leave Dutch alone as he dropped the curtain to his tent.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of skin hitting skin alerted Dutch to something happening outside his tent. He rubbed his eyes of sleep before opening the door seeing Molly standing over Arthur, a fiery expression on her face while the others stood staring in shock.

"You don't even care! They're worried sick over you and you can't see that!?" She screamed at him, her accent thicker in her rage. Arthur stared at her from the ground, hand resting upon a reddening cheek. His eyes were the shade of a thunder cloud as he stood. Everyone tensed, wondering if Molly had pushed too hard. Instead, Arthur stormed past her, hauled himself up Soleil, and stormed away from camp. Dutch had the sense to order John to follow him, and he did with a second of hesitation. Hosea rushed up to Molly, anger clear on his face. He smelt the drink on her.

"You! Why would you do that!" He didn't even try to hide his fury. "We're trying to help him not make it worse!" Dutch stood, arms crossed, silently agreeing with Hosea. Molly blubbered and ran over to Dutch's tent. He let her past him but made no move to join her.

\--

Arthur had the intention of having just a drink at a saloon in Rhodes but he rode to Saint Denis instead, hoping to lose the gang for just a night. He slammed the empty shot glass of whiskey on the counter, wishing his feelings would vanish. He grunted positively for another and downed that too. He leaned against the counter, asking for a beer now instead, and sipped it as he watched the people. He could feel the edge starting to fall off him in layers the more he drank. A man eyed him from across the bar and Arthur felt a spark of annoyance in his chest. He turned his back on the man, silently wishing he would pick a fight with him. He needed release. A smile tugged at his lips as he heard the mans chair scrape against the ground as he stood.

"You got a problem, buddy?" The man slurred, clearly drunk. Arthur turned, said nothing and just stared. The man grunted angrily and swung a fist. Easy dodge. Arthur ducked under his fist, and brought his own up, hitting the man in the jaw. A yelp of rage caused the drunk man to swing again, hitting Arthur on the side of his head. He noticed people scrambling away and out as Arthur lunged at the man, a full on fist fight erupted between them. He got knocked to the ground but quickly rolled over as the man attempted to straddle him. He kicked out knocking him off balance sending him crashing to the floor. Arthur scrambled over, grasping the front of the mans jacket with one fist and swinging with the other. In Arthur's eyes the face changed to the man who tortured him the most. Greasy hair, long beard and overweight. He relentlessly beat the man, not noticing when tears started to drip out of his eyes. He felt someone haul him off and fought against the hold.

"It's me! Arthur! Calm down, brother!" John. Arthur stopped struggling, and John let go. He saw the wet marks on his face but before he could ask Arthur was staggering out the door. John followed behind silently. 

"Back to camp, Arthur. Come back to camp." Arthur glanced at John briefly but did not answer, just kept walking. John sighed and followed after him as he stumbled down the street. He rubbed his temple gently trying to relieve the headache that blossomed after the hit he took. He went to the closest hotel and muttered about a bath to the host before he slammed the quarter on the counter and staggered to the room. John sat in the lobby waiting. 

\--

Freshly cleaned, less drunk and overall grumpy Arthur was in no mood to head back to camp. He knew what awaited him and he was not looking forward to the lecture Hosea or Dutch or both would have for him. They couldn't possibly understand the feelings that swirled in his chest, the unease he felt everyday upon wakening. It only seemed to dull when he was drunk or when he got into a fight. He knew deep down that he could try to explain to the two caring fathers but his rage blocked his sensibility and the unease about not earning enough won over the sense he had left. He met Johns eyes in the hall.

"Gonna see about a job." He said, his voice gruff. John studied him.

"I'll help." John said, following. Arthur near rolled his eyes. Reminded him of when they found John all them years ago. Always wanting to help. Arthur made a non-commital noise but kept walking. He knew of a bounty that the law in Saint Denis were eager to find and, well, having John along might not be so bad. When they reached the building John hesitated, not one to usually work for the law, Arthur did not. He strode in, went straight to the board and grabbed the poster, barely lifting a hand in the laws direction. He read the paper as he walked out to meet John.

'$100 Reward! For the CAPTURE DEAD or ALIVE of LINDSEY WOFFORD - LEMOYNE RAIDER COMMANDER.'

Arthur handed the paper to John as he whistled long and loud. John's horse and Arthur's galloped around the corner and the two boys mounted up. 

"So, we doing a bounty? $100?"

"Good money, easy target. The raiders are bad shots, and bad people John." Arthur told John as they trotted towards the end of Saint Denis. John hummed.

"Maybe so, is this what you do all the time? Work for the law?" John jested. Arthur let out a short laugh. 

"Hunt, mostly. Sold a ram hide for thirty three dollars." John stared at Arthur in disbelief. A wagon near cut John off and he shouted angrily at the driver while Arthur just raised an eyebrow.

"Watch it Marston. Don't cause trouble." 

"Says you! You fought a guy in a bar not even an hour ago!" John defended. He was happy enough that Arthur was bickering with him he didn't really care about what. He glanced at the poster before shoving it in his saddle bag and once they reached the end of the city they both brought their horses to a gallop.

"It's not too far out of town, maybe an hour. Can wrap this up and be back at camp before Pearson starts cooking. Might shoot a deer to add some... flavor to the stew." John Believed Arthur, since they had been here Arthur had scouted out the country and knew where the deer and most landmarks were. Simpler times, John thought. 

-

They rode up to the fort, both eyeing the decaying structure. They opted to leave their horses a ways off from the fort in case things got hot, which they usually do when Arthur is involved. They noted a portion of the structure had fallen down so they walked towards it, hands resting on their guns. It appeared empty, but the scuffle of a can told them otherwise.

"Lindsey Wofford. I got here a warrant for your arrest!" John shouted, "Or... The other thing, if it comes to it." 

A graying man came out of the tower to their left walking towards a gattling gun. Luckily not pointed in their direction. The man laughed.

"A federal warrant? No, no no, that don't mean much in a sovereign territory, mister." The man said resting a shotgun on his shoulder. Arthur grabbed his pistol, but left it in its holster. The man stopped in the centre of the falling down wall.

"We've been beaten down and driven out enough. Let's make a stand, boys!" Arthur swore, shoving John into cover next to him. A fire fight broke out and Arthur hit a thing of dynamite he didn't know was on the bridge, taking a few men and part of the wall down. John shot to his right, taking out a few raiders who looked in bad shape. Arthur jumped over the cover, yelling at John to cover him while he ran to grab the bounty. There was a handful of raiders trying to defend the fort. Arthur gunned down two men as he ran towards the tower Lindsey cowered in. John took out five raiders who tried to corner his brother. Tackling his bounty and tying him up, Arthur hauled the kicking man onto his shoulder. He had his pistol in one hand as he shot one raider who managed to evade John. He popped out of the tower and hauled it to where John was crouched. They listened for any back up before they jogged out of the fort and to their horses.

"Told ya, easy money." Arthur said, a genuine smile tugging at his lips, barely.

\--

The two men rode into camp, depositing a deer for Pearson and the bounty money for the lock box. Arthur headed straight for his bed, willing no one to see him. He felt eyes on him, felt everyone's judgement. He knew they thought he was weak, knew they were wary of him. He suddenly felt suffocated and dropped the tents flaps, wishing to block it out. A whine and Cain shoved his way in, gently licking at Arthur's hand before flopping down next to his bed. Arthur found his hands petting Cain for comfort before he could register. He sighed and sat down next to the mutt.   
'Only a moment, please, only a moment.' He thought, his breathing becoming labored and it puffed out of him in bursts. He closed his eyes and was back in the shed a hand around his throat and a knife stuck in his side. His blood dripping down, making a drip drip drip sound in the bucket below. A wheeze of breath, a stabbing pain as they let his throat go, opting instead to put pressure on his sensitive shoulder and laughing at his pain.

"They won't come, they didn't last time. You snuck out, like a rat, through any hole you could find. There won't be any holes this time. No one is coming. You're going to die here, alone and in pain. Begging for mercy. The thing about us, the thing about O'driscolls? They don't have mercy. Killed my own brother, and I ain't even upset." This man was scrawny, a scar down his arm that Arthur could see only the end of, he has facial hair just like Micah's but an attitude worse. Tamest of the tortures, he thought. He was taken out of his painful reminder when Cain smacked his arm with a paw. It was only then Arthur realized he wasn't breathing. He gasped in air and covered his face in his hands. Damaged.


	3. Chapter 3

Sunrise came faster then most would care for, but it offered a beautiful foggy morning. The lake looked almost divine in the morning and if he could only get those fancy colored pencils maybe Arthur could capture the calmness of morning in his journal. He was sat on the pier, having not slept since before the stage coach went wrong. He couldn't calm the anxious thrumming in his chest and opted to sketch in his journal until the camp got too suffocating for him. His eyes were dark with exhaustion and his mind was foggy but he was not going to stick around for too long. Too much to do, not enough man power. He had a treasure map he was thinking of following, if not that there was that map he found in the three skulls mouths. His curiosity was strong when it came to the weird murders he had stumbled upon. He hummed a song to himself as he sketched the pair of ducks that swam not too far from shore. 

"Beautiful morning." A voice spoke behind him, spooking him out of his journal with a burst of fright. He looked over his shoulders to see Dutch hovering a few feet away. Hosea was sat at a table in camp grinding up some herbs. Arthur hummed in agreement. 

"...What is your plan for the day, son?" Dutch was worried, ever since they rescued him Arthur had closed off completely. But he also knew Arthur was not one to open up easily.

"Not.. much, why?" Arthur didn't want to sound so suspicious but he couldn't help the bite that his words held.

"Need to get out, want to ride with me?" Arthur was stunned at that. It had been years since they had rode out just the two of them. Arthur wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Uh, sure. I have these two maps I was gonna look into." The confusion in his voice, he hoped, wasn't as obvious to Dutch as it was him. Dutch noted the dark circles under his eyes but wisely kept his mouth shut, nodding and gesturing Arthur to take the lead. Together they mounted up, Dutch telling Hosea to keep the camp running. They hadn't made any move on either family yet, as John had come back to camp one time while Arthur recovered saying neither seemed to have any gold. Hosea investigated a bit harder and while they hadn't figured it out they brought their efforts to a slow trickle until they could figure it out. Arthur pulled the fixed map out of his satchel and handed it over to Dutch.

"...A murder? Really Arthur?" Arthur had the decency to look almost ashamed.

"Just... curious is all. What kind of fella parades his work around? Maybe get a bounty out of it." Dutch hummed, agreeing, handing the map back to Arthur.

"Lead the way, deputy." Dutch jested.

\--

They rode up to where they guessed the map pointed, Arthur mentioned seeing something in the woods a ways back in the general area so they were mostly going blind. They did manage to stumble upon the shack in the woods and with the code on the map they were able to open the locks. Upon opening they were greeted with a rather intense stench of decay and blood. Blood littered the basement floor and the two men shared a look, each pulling out a revolver. Arthur walked in first, noting the shelves with... human skulls?

"Jesus..." He muttered before slowly walking forward. Body parts and guts were thrown haphazardly on the ground but to the right seemed to be a table, with books and notes thrown about haphazardly. Arthur spotted a letter and the table and he gingerly walked over to read it, glancing to make sure Dutch was alright. Dutch was eyeing the missing persons poster to his left. 

'Dear Mr. Editor, I must say-'

"Arthur, look at this." Dutch. Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin but he put the letter back and followed after Dutch. Around the corner, where the poster hung, was a horrible looking space. A trail of blood on the floor, human corpses torn apart, a naked body tied by the neck to the wall, the head on the floor. Dutch breathed heavily through his mouth.

"You find the weird ones, my boy." He chuckled humorlessly, both not hearing the steps behind them. A knife on the floor, Arthur went first to inspect. He leaned down, went to pick it up when suddenly he heard a body drop. He turned, hand ready to draw, eyes seeing Dutch unconscious on the floor before a man bashed him over the head and knocked him out.

\--

When Arthur came to he was half expecting the sounds of Cain begging for food or Abigail yelling at john. The other half was not surprised when he heard almost deranged laughter instead. Arthur tensed, where was he? Where was Dutch?

"Have you come for me? Or was this all a... nasty surprise... or maybe its both?" A mustached man, blurry as Arthur's eyes adjusted and his consciousness came back, goaded Arthur. He blearily blinked up at the man, standing over him holding a lantern.

"Maybe it is a nasty surprise, even though you knew I was going to be here. Which is it?" He lit the lantern in his hand, pausing his thoughts. "You should think about that... Save yourself thinking about whats about to happen..." Arthur, fully awake now, struggled against the binds on his wrist holding him in place. Fear in his heart, Dutch, where was Dutch?

"D-Dutch..." Arthur croaked.

"Now, I'm not going to lie... it's not going to be nice... and fun." The man giggled, clearly mad. He place the lantern down, gestured to Dutch who was knocked out leaned up against the wall, blessedly unharmed.

"I mean, it will be fun for me, but it won't be nice for you." The man grinned at Arthur grabbing a knife from the ground and fiddling with it.

"Who... who are you?" Arthur demanded, struggling.

"At least, no one's found it nice so far, maybe you'll be the first." He laughed darkly, "Do you like pain? Is it your friend? It's about to become your very close friend..." He stepped forward, standing almost over Arthur now.

"Very close. But when it's over.... release. Glorious release. Now, there's no point fighting. You might as well try and relax a little bit." Arthur glared up at the man as he walked towards him. He fought against the restraints on his hand. The knife was lowered to his neck, gently digging in. Arthur bared his teeth at the man. He had no words, his brain was in overload and fear ruled over his whole body. Unknown to either man Dutch was waking up, slowly. The knife was dragged down from his neck over his chest, being pushed deeper. Arthur shouted in pain, desperately trying to free his wrists. 

Dutch woke fully then, eyes snapping open to see Arthur bleeding into the ground. His body jumped into overdrive. Fool didn't even tie him up. He tackled the man off Arthur, wrestling the knife away from him before he snagged it and plunged it in his neck. The man gurgled out in shock, grasping at the knife in his neck. He fell to the floor, desperately grasping at life only to fail and fall eerily silent. Dutch whipped around to Arthur, undoing the leather straps keeping him tied to the floor.

"Arthur! Are you okay, son?" It was a stupid question really, of course he wasn't. He helped his son to his feet and quickly helped guide him up the stairs. Dutch was glad he woke up when he did, suddenly terrified of the way Arthur's breath puffed out of him but little came in. Hyperventilating. Dutch shoved the two of them outside onto the grass, grabbing Arthur's head between his hands.

"Arthur, focus on my breathing, copy my breathing. Son. Look at me." Dutch smacked his face lightly, watching Arthur's eyes meet his. Fearful blue met fearful brown but it seemed to work. Arthur desperately tried to copy Dutch's own calm breathing, his anxiety had thrown him into spiral. He stared desperately at Dutch trying to block out the memories of the shed. His chest panged with pain but he slowly was able to calm his breathing. Dutch slowly let go of his head, gently resting his forehead on Arthur's. Arthur closed his eyes as he breathed. The panic slowly subsided and he shuddered under the weight of his own mind.

"...'m sorry." Arthur finally was able to gasp out. Dutch lifted his head, and stared hard at him. 

"Son..." But Arthur wasn't there, mentally at least. His eyes were screwed shut and Dutch noted Arthur was digging his fingernails into his arms, breathing coming in less frantic breaths. He stared hard, conflicted. On one hand he wanted to make Arthur talk, goddamn it, on the other he wanted his son to come to him first. 

\--

"Tsk, tsk, wake up." A stabbing sensation on his chest startled him awake. He pried his eyes open, eyelids heavy with pain and exhaustion. Piercing blue met swampy green briefly before a hand wrapped around his bruised throat. Arthur groaned, but no pressure was applied. A heavy thunk and Arthur's tired eyes scanned the basement as Colm himself sat on the wooden table on the other side of the room. He gestured to the man to let go of Arthur's neck.

"Arthur Morgan. Glad to see ya, how was old Dutch when you went crawling back? Did he even realize you were gone? Ya see, you just ain't important no more." Colm drawled, picking at his fingernails with a knife. Arthur grunted but said nothing, choosing instead to glare at Colm with distaste. He jumped off the table and walked to Arthur's side.

"Let me go, Colm." Arthur growled, pain making his tone short. Colm raised one eyebrow before taking the handle of the knife and bashing into his ribs, and flipping the blade over and dragging it down from Arthur's neck to his chest, going over his collar bone and down the center of his chest before lifting it off and stabbing it into the flesh part of his side. Arthur gasped in pain, blood dripping down and into the pail. 

"No, no no no. That would ruin the fun. I want to see you suffer, bleed. I didn't get a chance to turn you in last time... but this time? I ensured my success." Colm sneered at him at him, wiping his blade on a scrap cloth. Colm turned to the bastard who previously held Arthur's throat. A nod was exchanged before suddenly Arthur's air flow was cut off. Arthur desperately grasped at the hands on his neck trying to peel them off. His throat ached and his struggle slowed before blessedly the hands lifted off and he was able to take desperate breathes in. Colm smirked at Arthur, a very threatening look on his face.

"Trust me, Morgan. This time? There is no escape and no one is coming for you." 

\--

After managing to bring Arthur back around the two rode back to camp, both nursing wounds, Dutch less concerned about himself. Hosea near had a heart attack when they rode in both covered in blood. Granted he reckoned most of it was either Arthur's or the man from the basement. 

"What happened?! Susan, quick, we need to patch these idiots up!" Hosea rushed over, checking over Dutch first before moving on to his son. Arthur glared at the ground, blood starting to dry on his chest. Dutch guided Arthur and the worried Hosea over to his tent, Susan bustling around gathering supplies. Hosea started to question Dutch while Arthur stared into nothing, ignoring both in favor of his churning thoughts. The two fathers were keeping an eye on their son, while Hosea lectured and Dutch defended.

"I... I..." Arthur spoke, suddenly. He lifted his gaze from the ground to look at the two standing above him before looking at his hands.

"Dear boy, what is it?" Hosea turned his full attention to Arthur who seemed to be lost deep in his mind.

"Every time... Every time I... I have these... flashbacks.." Arthur finally got out. He couldn't do this alone, not any longer. His demons were starting to win and Arthur desperately needed help. He felt uncomfortable with opening up to anyone. Dutch turned now, watching Arthur hunch into himself, making himself as small as possible. Arthur took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing. 

"I find myself back, hung up, and the torture... I remember all the pain. Every hit, every stab... I.." Arthur took a calming breath. Dutch put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, Hosea crouched in front of him. 

"It's like... I feel tense all the time. I can't.... Relief only seems to come when I... I fight." Arthur roughly scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, then lifted his gaze to the two fatherly figures. They smiled encouragingly at him.

"I tried, really, I tried... I couldn't... It didn't... I don't..." Arthur dropped his head into his hands and sighed, his thoughts couldn't seem to straighten out and he let his words hang in the air. 

Dutch met eyes with Hosea briefly before they turned their attention back to Arthur, who rubbed at his eyes before he started to scratch anxiously at his arms. Hosea gently pried Arthur's hands away from his arms and held them between his. Dutch patted his shoulder but both men stayed silent, physically there for him, too scared to break the moment. Arthur eyed his hands then made eye contact with Hosea.

"I'm... I'm... scared." Arthur finished lamely, closing his eyes and sighing. He felt somehow a little lighter after confessing but he also felt... weak and he hated it. It hurt them to see their son look so weak and... damaged. 

"Hmm..." Dutch hummed. "Tell us, exactly what happened." Hosea nodded encouragingly. Arthur took a deep breath and began.

\--

Later that night, Arthur was laying in his tent, awake, anxious and an interesting feeling coursing through his veins. His chest and neck panged with pain from the slice, however dulled it was. For the first time Arthur had no nightmares, no flashbacks, for one night. He sucked in a breath before rolling out of his tent and walking to the dock, behind his tent, and sat thinking.

Micah. Micah had tried to kill him, and while he wasn't surprised by that fact he wondered if Micah had told the O'driscolls where he was, if the whole thing was a set up. However it didn't matter now as he was dead, gone, shot through the head. They needed money now, and they needed it quick. He had to plan.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur gasped, his throat unable to bring air in, pain all over his body and blood staining the ground below him. Above him the sun started to rise and he turned his head, painfully, to watch. His breathing abruptly cut off and he stared at the sun as his heart slowly stopped. Above his body (body!?) footsteps echoed before he heard a scattering of rocks. In front of his body (He realized he was dead... dead?!) Dutch stood, looking lost, angry and confused. 

"Son, no.. Why? Why did you betray me? Or maybe... I betrayed you? Micah... Micah told me, wormed into my ear... Without Hosea and with you doubting me... I... I..." Dutch stopped and twisted his rings anxiously. He stared at him, agony in his eyes. "I wish..." And abruptly Arthur woke up.

\--

Arthur was away from camp. He was still thinking about that damn dream. He was thankful it wasn't a nightmare from his time with the O'driscolls, however it still took his mind away from what he was doing which was standing on a cliff side, staring at a map in his hand. He stared at the map, then at the gap in front of him and sighed. He was going to have to jump.

If he failed the jump he would die... But if he made it, what riches would await him? He had told both Dutch and Hosea he would be gone about 5 days and it was day 3... So eventually they'd come and find his body. It was a risk he would take to provide for the hang. He backed up, swallowed his fear and ran, leaping at the last second.

"Unf!" He grunted as his stomach made contact with the rock, he frantically pulled himself up and lay panting as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. He swore to himself before he laughed and stood up. He jumped up the rock intfront of him before he pulled the map back out. Almost there. 

Infront of him was a very narrow rock path, which he jumped down onto and walked towards a rather obvious cranny. He shoved his hands up and felt around before he pulled out another map. He growled low in his throat before he studied it and made his way, carefully, back to where Soleil was waiting patiently. He gave her a peppermint before mounting up and heading towards Cotorra Springs. Hopefully this would be the last damn map and he would have money to bring back to the camp.

\--

The springs were always lovely and Arthur thought he would love to bring Hosea here to see it when the weather turns nicer. He pulled his coat a bit tighter as a cold wind blew through him. In front of him some Inukshuks, probably made by those who occupied Wapiti, stood proudly in front of him matching with what was on the map.

"Let's see here... I know it's around here." The map wasn't very helpful but he eventually lined himself up and figured which one held the reward. He blindly stuck his hand in and pulled another map out. He groaned and dropped his head into his hands before he studied the map. There was only one lake near the mountains that had an island with a tree on it, so at the very least he knew exactly where to go for this one. 

\--

Arthur cursed as he jumped off the canoe into the frigid water, which filled his boots with no problem, and sluggishly made his way onto the island. There was a rock that looked out of place but Arthur thought that was too easy.

Or not as when he pushed the rock over there were two gold bars shining up at him. He sighed in relief and picked them up before he waded back out to the canoe. He smiled to himself knowing that he had an easy $1000 dollars in his satchel to give to his fathers. He had to get back fast.

\--

"Dutch!" Blearily rubbing his eyes, confused and a bit disorientated. "Dutch!!" He sprung out of bed upon hearing his name and checked his pocket watch. 5am? What was happening?

Hosea stumbled into his tent, looking annoyingly excited for it being 5am. Dutch squinted at him, barely concealed irritability on his face. Hosea was grinning like he just found out he was secretly rich so Dutch of course followed him as he was beckoned outside.

"Arthur came back to camp, and boy look what that lucky moron found!" Said man was standing next to his horse giving her a quick brush. She nosed at his satchel and Arthur smiled before handing her a peppermint. He turned when he heard footsteps to see Hosea and a grumpy looking Dutch striding over to him, he greeted them and pulled the two bars out of his satchel before handing one to each father. Dutch stared blankly at the bar in his hand before he grinned, a real smile, and clapped a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"You... You found quite the treat there son." His grin was matched by Hosea's as they stared at bars. Arthur told them about the map, leaving out the almost falling off a cliff part, and how far North he went to find this. He also told them he had more maps to explore to which Hosea eagerly asked for them. Arthur handed them over before turning to Dutch and pushing the dream out of his mind. Seeing him Happy and less stress made him realize that there was nothing to fear, there was no betrayal. He knew his fathers would always have his back and he felt somehow lighter for it.

**Author's Note:**

> ya okay like I might rewrite this but well... here ya go.


End file.
